


it comes around

by catbeans



Series: sometimes there are consequences to physically traumatic events [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Chronic Illness, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Luke Skywalker, a little bit o space weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbeans/pseuds/catbeans
Summary: He had been so damn careful.It took weeks to be cleared for missions, and would have been much longer without Leia and Luke insisting that Han was essential to the work they were doing, and the seemingly endless doctor appointments to confirm that yes, he was mostly fine, he just couldn't go on missions that could trigger a flare.





	it comes around

**Author's Note:**

> youll probably want to read the first part of this to know what all is going on, but basically: han is chronically ill after the carbon freeze, there arent any Serious symptoms outside of flareups, which are basically a repeat of the hibernation sickness from when he was first rescued.  
> im@hansolosbi dot tumblr!

He had been so damn careful.

It took weeks to be cleared for missions, and would have been much longer without Leia and Luke insisting that Han was essential to the work they were doing, and the seemingly endless doctor appointments to confirm that yes, he was mostly fine, he just couldn't go on missions that could trigger a flare.

He didn’t really feel mostly fine, though.

It was like walking on eggshells, and like everyone else was too, the blindness and the cold and the tremors hovering over him like a thick, dark cloud that could rain down on him at any second. The headaches still came, and he could never quite get fully warm, and if he woke up when it was too dark, his chest felt like it was in a vice, breath caught in his throat until the lights went on and he could still see.

He stopped sleeping with the lights off after the third time it happened.

After a couple uneventful missions, it seemed almost like he was the only one still walking on eggshells, but he kept catching those  _ looks _ from Luke and Leia, sometimes even Chewie, every time he had to go find an extra jacket or started pinching the bridge of his nose when a headache started coming. He found a small bottle of migraine pills in his bunk the day after offhandedly mentioning to Luke that he was thinking of getting some, just in case, he didn’t really  _ want _ them, you know, but...

It was suffocating.

He had been  _ so _ damn careful.

He felt it coming like a punch to the gut, through the knife-cold wind and the rain  pounding down on him and Luke on their way back to the Falcon, a storm they hadn't seen on their radars in time on a planet that rarely got more than a mild chill where they were. It started with a migraine, but the blur in his peripheral vision was too thick and dark, closing in too fast to be only that. 

Luke was already looking at him when Han reached out with a hand that was starting to go numb, and even if he could think of the words to say what was happening, his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“We’re almost there,” Luke said, grabbing Han’s arm, reassuring but with a strain to his voice that didn't make Han feel particularly optimistic; he couldn't tell if it was the wind making Luke sound distant and hard to hear, or if it was just him.

He didn’t know how long it actually took to get back to the Falcon, every step feeling heavier and heavier. Luke must have called in to Chewie without him noticing, because he was startled by bright lights cutting through the rain, the mechanical sound of the loading ramp opening up a few feet in front of him.

The next couple minutes were a haze, Luke leading him inside with a tight grip on Han’s arm, tugging off his wet jacket and pushing him into one of the passenger seats in the cockpit before he could object.

“We need to go  _ now,” _ he heard Luke say, and then a grumble of agreement from Chewie, and the comforting whir of the engines starting up before the lurch of a hasty takeoff twisted his stomach into knots.

Han leaned his head against the back of the chair and clenched his eyes shut, wrapping his arms tight around himself to try to help the feeling that he was shaking so much he might just fall apart, but the bone-deep tremors were so bad it felt like his whole body was out of sync with the rest of the ship, somehow.

Luke came back to Han once they were in the air, squeezing his shoulder for a second before saying, “I’ll be right back,” and bolting out of the cockpit. He was back a few seconds later--was it just a few seconds?--with a thick, heavy blanket, and Han heard the crinkling of the air-activated heat pads he had stashed in his bunk. Luke tucked one into his shirt at the back of his neck, holding one to each of Han’s wrists until he was able to hold them in place himself.

It felt like his bones had turned to jelly and lead at the same time, like his whole body was too heavy to move itself but so hollow and flimsy he could be knocked over by a light breeze and  _ fuck, _ it felt like he was shaking himself apart.

He could barely see the lights on the dashboard when he forced his eyes open, tiny, dim pinpricks where there should have been big, glowing buttons and switches he knew better than the back of his hand. He closed his eyes again.

He heard Luke calling in to base, the words clanging around Han’s skull like heavy coins; he tried to block it out as best he could, until he heard Luke saying they needed a medic ready to take Han in when they landed--

“I'm not fuckin’ going,” Han tried to say, but all he managed was a barely coherent mumble, and he heard Luke telling whoever was on the other end of the com to hold on a second.

He didn't realize Luke had come back over to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What was that?”

“I’m not. Going. To medical,” Han grit out, trying to clench his eyes impossibly tighter against the way every sound felt like getting hit in the head.

Luke's hand twitched against his shoulder. “We have to make sure--”

_ “No.” _

Luke was silent for a second, and then rubbed Han’s shoulder with a soft “Alright,” walking back to the copilot seat to tell them to forget that last instruction for now.

Han could hear Luke and Chewie talking quietly a couple feet in front of him, just snippets of words and low grumbles and the occasional  _ click _ of someone flipping a switch on the dashboard, but it all melted together into a thick haze that made the air feel too thick.

Han wasn't sure how long it was before Luke came over to him again, no way to guess how much time had passed except for carefully measured breaths. He felt Luke's hand on his upper arm, sliding up to the back of his neck to check the heat pad.

“Tell me how I can help.”

Han shook his head.

Luke was quiet, but he didn’t move, and then, “Would you be more comfortable in bed?”

Han might have snapped at him to leave it, or shaken Luke's hand off his arm or said any number of things to try to get Luke to leave him alone if he could; still, every fiber in his body might as well have been weighed down by rocks, his head swimming too much to form a coherent sentence, and he was stubborn but he wasn't stupid, and he knew he didn’t have the energy to protest even if Luke wasn't being completely reasonable.

Han grit his teeth and nodded.

Luke slung the blanket over his shoulder and took the heat pads from Han’s wrists, snaking his arm around Han’s torso to help him up and give him something to lean on. His legs felt stiff and wobbly and unreliable, and all he wanted right then was to be able to take a step away from Luke without feeling like he would fall right through the floor. He bit the inside of his cheek until it tasted coppery.

He couldn't help letting out a deep sigh of relief when he heard Luke hit the switch for the door to his bunk; he let himself tumble onto the mattress as soon as he knew he was close enough not to miss, barely registering the pang in his elbow from hitting it against the wall on his way down. 

“Han, you need to change into something dry.”

Han grumbled and shook his head; he’d barely noticed how his pants were soaked through, the cold from that blending together with the cold down to his bones, and he just wanted to try to sleep...

“At least take the wet clothes off, it’s just making you colder.”

Han couldn't argue with that--he wanted to, but anything he could do to get warmer won out over not wanting to get up again. 

Luke took over when his hands were too shaky to get a grip on his shoelaces, moving up to tap Han’s belt. Luke waited for him to nod before unbuckling it, opening his pants enough for him to pull them down and kick his boots off. 

The air stung his skin, clammy and covered in goosebumps from the damp, and the blanket Luke lay over him felt scratchier than he thought it should, but he could already feel it taking some of the bitterness out of the cold.

Han heard Luke unclip the com from his belt to set it on the mattress by his head, and quiet footstep on their way out of the room, but Han didn’t hear the door slide shut, and Luke was back a minute later with a couple more blankets.

Luke didn’t say anything while he gave the heat pads back to Han, reaching over him to tuck the other blankets tightly around him; he was so dizzy he could have missed Luke growing an extra head, but he didn’t miss the way Luke's hand lingered on his waist for just a fraction of a second, fingertips brushing through Han’s hair a little too much to be an accident when Luke checked that the head pad against his neck was still in place.

He told himself the tight feeling in his chest was just from the flare.

“I set your com to go straight to the cockpit if you need anything,” Luke said, his hand sliding down from the back of Han’s neck to rub circles over his shoulder. Han couldn't decide if he wanted to pull away or not. “It won’t be much longer until we’re back at base.”

Han nodded and pressed his face into the pillow.

Luke didn’t move for a minute, giving Han’s shoulder a light squeeze before standing up. He didn’t need to see to know Luke was wringing his hands before he said, “Please tell me if you need anything,” soft but definitive and not leaving any room for argument.

Han nodded again.

It was another few seconds before he heard Luke's footsteps headed away from the bed, and a  _ click _ from Luke turning the lights on--not that Han could tell the difference anymore--and then, “Open or closed?”

“Closed,” he croaked.

“I mean it, Han,” Luke said from the doorway. “You need to say something.”

“I  _ know.” _

Han could hear Luke's soft little huff of a sigh before a resigned, “I’ll check in on you,” and then the door slid shut, and the only sound left in the room with him was the low whirring of the engines.

Han couldn't decide if this was worse than that first flare, back on base; he knew what was happening this time, at least, but however much he never wanted to get another brain scan or blood test again in his life, they had passed the time, they were a distraction. Now there was nothing to think about but the sound of his own breathing, pushing through the fog in his head to repeat stats about the ship to try to ignore how suffocatingly  _ helpless _ he was against this, how much longer was this going to last…?

 

Han only realized he must have fallen asleep, or blacked out or  _ something, _ when he jerked awake to the feeling of his head pounding even worse than before, his chest tightening up and his heartbeat rushing in his ears at the deep, heavy darkness; he could practically smell the stale air of Jabba’s holding cells from the first time he'd come conscious like this, shackled and freezing and halfway convinced he was dead. He couldn't shake the feeling, no matter how insistently he told himself he was in the Falcon, he was safe this time, and this really was the last fucking thing he needed to deal with--

It took a second set of quick raps against the door for Han to realize that it was someone knocking, not just the ship or his imagination. His breath caught in his throat for a second before he heard Luke's voice, muffled through the door, “Han, how are you doing?”

Luke was quiet in the time it took for Han to try to put some semblance of a response together, but he couldn't get any words out before Luke said, “I’m coming in,” and he had to press his hands against his ears to block out the sound of the door sliding open.

Luke's footsteps were blessedly silent on his way to the bed, and Han could feel the mattress dip slightly at the end where Luke sat down.

“We’re almost back at base,” he said quietly. “I thought I'd check in.” A pause, and then, “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

Han took a deep breath and shrugged. He had never said anything about the nightmares, or why he always slept with the lights on now, or those moments where Jabba’s palace or being tortured before the carbonfreeze felt more real than wherever he actually was, and this wasn't when he wanted to start.

He still couldn't get his breathing to slow down, and the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears was starting to get overwhelming.

“I’m not going to lie by omission by not telling you,” Luke said, slow and measured. “I was…”

“You were listening,” Han said gruffly.

“Only a little.” Luke was quiet for a second. “I know you've been having flashbacks.”

Han clenched his jaw. “Don't remember telling you that.”

“I know.” Luke went quiet again. “I’m sorry. It wasn't intentional.”

_ “How?” _

“They haven't exactly been quiet. I wasn’t trying to listen in when I first realized what it was.”

Han huffed and turned his face into the pillow, but he couldn't fault Luke for not always being able to tune everything out, however much he wanted to right then. That kid was a sponge.

Neither of them said anything for a minute, but Han could feel Luke shift at the foot of the bed.

“Do you need the migraine medication?”

Han decided not to think about whether Luke was just making a suggestion, or if he had picked up on that too.

“I guess.”

“Just a moment.”

He could hear Luke shuffling around the room for a minute before the  _ click-click-click _ of pills bouncing around in their bottle, and then, “I’ll be right back,” Luke's footsteps making their way out of the room.

He was back only a few seconds later. “Can you sit up?”

Han slowly pushed himself upright to lean against the wall, but not slow enough to keep his head from spinning so badly it felt like a broken gravity simulator.

Luke gave him a cup of something, bumping it against his knuckles first so he knew where to grab, and carefully dropped a pill into Han’s other hand. Han cringed at the funny taste it left in the back of his mouth, even with the water to wash it down.

“You're not the only one,” Luke said after an uncomfortably long stretch of quiet. “The flashbacks. There's no need to suffer in silence.”

Han bit the inside of his cheek; Luke had never said anything before, but he hadn't said anything about all those medical visits for his hand or after the second Death Star either, until he had gone with Han to the hospital after that first flare.

“Yeah, well,” Han grumbled, giving the empty cup back to Luke and rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Neither do you.”

There hadn't been much time for either of them to say anything, although Han got the feeling there could have been; the morning after that night Luke had stayed with him in the Falcon, after that hospital visit, Luke had been...not withholding, not exactly, but distant and quiet and more detached than Han would have hoped for. In the days and weeks afterwards, Luke had been a little more inclined to touch him than before, a little less closed-off, but outside of their briefings and missions, Luke never seemed to be around whenever Han had a free minute, and Han wasn't sure how to initiate that conversation. He wasn't really sure what conversation he was hoping to have.

He assumed that night had been a fluke, just a lapse in judgment. Luke might be less of a brick wall, he might be a bit less reluctant to ask for advice, but that didn’t mean he would still want to go back to the way things were before.

It seemed like he wanted space, and Han didn’t push it. This was better than nothing.

“You had enough on your plate,” Luke said. “I can manage it.”

“How many times have I heard that one before?”

Luke didn’t get the chance to respond before the whirring of the engines got louder, thrumming enough for Han to feel it in his bones, and the ship came to a shaky stop.

“We must have landed,” Luke said, and Han almost wished the trip had taken just a little longer so he wouldn't have had the chance to change the subject. “I have to debrief. Do you want to--?”

“I’m staying here.”

“Alright.” Han felt the mattress shift when Luke stood up. “I have my com with me if you need anything.”

Han nodded with a grumbled  _ mhmm, _ lying back down and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

“I’m going to have to explain what happened,” Luke said, “but I’ll do my best to keep you from having to go to medical, if that's still what you want.”

“Yup.” 

Luke was quiet for a few seconds, and Han almost thought he'd left without making enough noise for him to notice until he said, “I’ll check in again in a while,” strained with something Han couldn't quite place, but resolute enough that he didn’t have the energy to argue that he didn’t have to.

“Do you still want the door closed?”

Han nodded again.

“Please say if you need anything,” Luke repeated, and the door slid shut, and Han pulled the blankets up over his head so he could pretend that was the real reason he couldn't see.

The darkness felt thicker with no one else there, heavier now that there wasn't even the noise from the engines to keep him grounded; however hard he tried, he couldn't make himself believe that the tight, aching panic in his chest was just part of the flare. 

He almost considered calling for Luke to come back.

Han forced his breathing as steady as he could manage, mentally repeating stats about the ship again to try to give himself something to think about, or bore himself to sleep, anything to distract him from the way the cold bit into him right down to his bones, the darkness almost completely indistinguishable from when he was first unfrozen at Jabba’s palace.

He knew the migraine medication had kicked in once the sharp pounding in his head subsided to a dull ache, his skin finally feeling a little less like a bad sunburn, and he slowly pushed himself upright against the wall, deep breaths until his head stopped spinning again.

Han had half a mind to dig out the spice still crammed in a drawer somewhere--the migraine medication might help the  _ migraine, _ but it wouldn't help him sleep, or do anything for the tight, panicky feeling in his chest--but he wouldn't be able to see where it was, let alone roll it into something he could smoke, and he bumped his head back against the wall with a huff.

A few minutes of picking at the hem of his shirt went by before he remembered his com, still next to him on the bed where Luke had put it earlier. Chewie didn’t always go to debriefings, the hassle of someone translating for him not always worth it when only a handful of higher-ups understood more than light conversational Shyriiwook; he could still be on the ship.

Han had to go by feel and hope he had it on the right settings to reach the cockpit, wincing at the scratchy static that came out while the com connected.

“Chewie--” Han had to clear his throat before it sounded like anything but an incoherent croak. “Chewie, you still around?” Nothing. “Hey, Chewie!”

A couple seconds went by with nothing but a tinny, electric ringing in his ear that he'd never noticed before. He was about to put the com down and cocoon himself back in his blankets when there was another quick burst of static, followed by a familiar growl with a twinge of concern he tried to ignore.

“Yeah, it’s fine, just need your eyes a sec.”

Chewie didn’t respond, but the door slid open just a few seconds later; Han decided the first thing he had to do when he could see again was fix the tracks so they wouldn't make so much damn  _ noise. _

“You think you could find something for me?”

Chewie growled back that he could, you sit tight--quieter than usual, Luke must have mentioned the migraine--and the dark over his eyes already felt a little less smothering with someone else's voice to fill the room.

“There's a bag of spice in, uh, one of the drawers, should be under the bed, I think, there'll be some papers there too--don’t start, pal, I took that migraine stuff, I’m working with what I got.”

Chewie dug through the drawers for a couple minutes before the mattress dipped where he sat down next to Han, dropping the bag and a cardboard packet of rolling papers into his lap.

He didn’t realize how bad his hands were shaking until he tore through the first two; Han didn’t get the chance to ask for help before Chewie took back the bag and the packet, grumbling sarcastically enough it would be impossible to miss even without understanding him.

“Yeah, yeah, blindfolded is one thing,” Han said, leaning against Chewie’s side,  _ “you _ try rolling something when your hands are trying to fall off.”

Chewie snorted a laugh.

“I did do it! No one said it had to look pretty.”

Chewie hummed in agreement, low and rumbly and pushing away the feeling that Han’s insides were somehow just as shaky as the rest of him.

Han closed his eyes and leaned his head on Chewie’s shoulder, coarse fur tickling his cheek, too thick to let out much body heat but still warm enough to bring some relief to the persistent chill over his skin.

Chewie nudged him and put the joint in Han’s hand, lumpy and uneven from how small the papers were compared to his fingers, and Han reached for his pocket for a lighter before remembering he hadn't had one on him in weeks.

“Ah, hell--”

Chewie grumbled and leaned forward, and Han heard some rustling from one of the drawers, dropping a lighter in his lap a second later.

“You’re a real lifesaver.”

Chewie rumbled back to tell him something he didn’t know already, but Han didn’t even get the joint to his mouth to light it before Chewie gave his shoulder a light smack with another low growl.

“Are you serious? Fine, but you're taking the heat if Luke shows up and thinks going outside is gonna, like, kill me, or something. Help me up.”

Chewie huffed and bumped his leg against Han’s.

“Right. Shit. You see any--?”

Chewie growled and got up before he could finish the question, tossing him a pair of worn-soft sweatpants and holding his arm out for Han to lean against while he stumbled into them.

He still felt like he was walking with a broken gravity simulator, and Chewie had to put an arm around his waist to keep him steady, shuffling so he wouldn't have to worry about tripping over something he couldn't see. Han tried not to think about how disconcerting it was not being able to walk through his own ship by himself.

He grit his teeth at the harsh mechanical sounds of the loading ramp being opened, sharp sounds bouncing around the back of his head like rocks; the air was humid enough to stick to his skin like a cold fog, but the sunlight was warm on his face, the thick black over his eyes a little less pitch and a little more like a cloudy, starless sky. Chewie's hand was comfortably tight around his arm when he lead him to sit down at the bottom.

“Where are we?”

Chewie explained that they'd landed a few minutes walk from base, close enough they could get Han to medical if they needed to but not so close anyone might try to look for him.

Han nodded--he wasn't sure if anyone would say anything anyway, but smoking right next to a military base wasn't his idea of a good time. He managed to get the joint to his mouth without dropping it, but his hands were still too shaky to get it to light, even if he had been able to see exactly where the lighter was.

“Shit--”

Chewie took the lighter from him before he could try again, and Han inhaled when he heard the crackle of burning paper, louder than he'd ever noticed it being before.

“Thanks, pal,” Han said, voice rough, coughing a little on the exhale. He'd gotten out of practice.

Han leaned against Chewie's side, coughing every so often at the smoke stinging down his throat; still, the tight, panicky feeling in his chest was easing up, and his insides felt a little less shaky, and the sun on his face almost seemed warmer than any of the heat packs Luke had given him. 

It wasn't long before the fuzzy warmth from the smoke and the sun had him almost drifting off, and he didn't notice he’d burned the joint down almost to the end until it singed his fingers.

“You want to finish it off?” he asked, holding out what was left of it as carefully as he could without burning either of them.

Chewie grunted a  _ thanks, _ and Han felt his shoulder rise and fall with a deep breath before he crushed what was left of the burning paper under his foot with a questioning grumble.

“Yeah, let’s go, m’tired,” Han said, slow and a little slurred from the way his mouth didn’t feel put together quite right, and Chewie hoisted him up with an arm around his waist to lead him back into the Falcon.

His balance was worse, Chewie taking more of his weight than earlier, but the sick-wobbly feeling in his insides was mostly gone, and the smoke had gotten the stale taste of the air in Jabba’s cells out of his mouth, and he decided that was more than worth needing a little more help getting back to his bunk.

Chewie gave the bedframe a couple kicks so Han could hear and avoid bumping into it, helping him down and pulling up the blankets to where he could reach them without too much fumbling. He could almost tell himself the darkness still hanging over his eyes was just that the lights were off.

Chewie nudged his shoulder with a soft growl, fidgeting with the blankets until Han waved his hand away.

“I’m good, pal.” He pulled the blankets up to his chin, turning onto his side and pressing his face into the pillow. “Thanks.”

Chewie ruffled his hair before walking to the door with another growl, pausing while Han put together an answer; he felt less like he was back in a jail cell, and he might not even notice the difference without his eyesight, but that room could get so stuffy sometimes…

“Leave it open.”

He heard Chewie’s footsteps heading away from the door before turning back.

“I know, I know, I have my com, I’ll get one of you if I need something.”

Chewie growled that he’d better, and after a few seconds his footsteps gave way to silence, and Han squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could without his head hurting any more.

He tried to let the thick haze in his head pull him down into sleep, but the anxiety and quick flashes of  _ coldcolddeathdarkcold _ kept creeping into the edges of his mind like spiders, the feeling of shackles around his wrists like a phantom limb, and Han started to wish he'd dragged out his time with Chewie a little longer.

Han pulled the blankets around himself until they were almost uncomfortably snug, rolling around every few seconds to try to find a position where didn’t feel so achy, like his bones were too heavy and his joints weren't fitting together quite right.

The best he could do was a few minutes of dozing off before his heart would start pounding, tremors wracking his whole body until it felt like being on a ship with a bad engine; he would pull the blankets tighter, and force his breathing slower until his heartbeat slowed down with it, and he would hope he slept just a little bit longer each time until it felt like it was going on forever.

 

Han couldn't tell how the time was passing, between the persistent darkness and the way he felt just as sick every time he woke up, no way to tell if he'd been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours. At least the first time, there were doctors and med droids bustling around the room, running all those tests and asking all those questions and giving him some frame of reference for how long it had been going on, but there was none of that now, just the uneven rush of his own heartbeat in his ears and the occasional dull  _ clank _ of the ship settling.

If he had to guess, most of a day had gone by before he heard banging against the wall by the open door, splotches of gray starting to seep in through the heavy black.

“Han?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, straightening out his stiff legs and rolling away from the wall.

Han heard the rustling of fabric when Luke crouched down by the bed, setting something down on the floor next to him.

“How are you?”

Han shrugged and rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead.

Luke didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then, “You need to eat something.”

Han grit his teeth against the wave of nausea that came with even the thought of food, shaking his head and breathing out slowly until it subsided a little.

“You’re going to feel worse the longer you don’t.”

Han pinched the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t have time to put together a real argument before he heard the  _ crack _ of a bottle being opened.

“I thought you might have some trouble with food, like last time,” Luke said. “This might be easier for you to keep down.”

“What is it?”

“Just a meal-replacement drink. They recommended it in medical.”

Han tried not to think about medical.

“Fine.” He pushed himself upright with a wince, leaning against the wall and rolling some of the kinks out of his neck.

He took a deep breath before taking the bottle from Luke, drinking as much as he could in one go before the nausea caught up with him, and he had to press a hand to his mouth to keep down that awful lurching feeling until it went away and he could breathe again.

“What the fuck?”

Luke took the bottle back and set it down on the floor, rubbing Han’s wrist for a second before quickly pulling his hand back. “I know they're unpleasant, but you'll feel better with something in your stomach. Here. It's just water.” Luke bumped another bottle against his knuckles so he could wash down the taste and the thick feeling of the drink lingering in his mouth.

“How long’s it been?” Han asked, sucking down the whole bottle; he hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he was drinking something, and then it felt like he could drink a lake.

“About a day.” Luke took the bottle from him once it was empty. “I came by last night, but you weren't particularly lucid.”

Han didn’t remember it.

Luke moved to sit next to him on the bed, hesitating before he asked, “Any improvement from yesterday?”

Han shrugged and rubbed at the ache behind his forehead again. “Eyes seem like they're getting somewhere, I guess.”

“Your sight is coming back?”

“It’s getting there. I  _ guess,” _ he emphasized.

“That’s good.” Luke was quiet for a few seconds. “And the rest?”

“Well.” Han let out a slow breath and leaned back until his head bumped the wall. “I’m not gonna die, so.”

He could practically feel Luke frowning.

“Did the migraine medication help?”

“A little.”

Han heard him take a deep breath, and then, “If you aren't improving enough, they said we should bring you to medical, just to be safe.”

Han huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, still all stiff and achey. “I’m fine. It’s going like last time. I don’t need medical.”

“Alright.” Luke was quiet for a minute. “Do you want fresh heat pads?”

Han shook his head.

“Do you want to just rest more? I’ll still have my com on me, if you need anything.”

Han thought for a second--he could do without all the questioning, and the quiet, thrumming anxiety radiating from Luke wasn't helping, but even with the gray beginning to fill in the black over his eyes, it still felt a little less suffocating with someone else there, and he wasn't sure he could get to sleep again if he tried.

He shook his head again. “You got anywhere to be?”

“No,” Luke said, and Han heard fabric rustling together from Luke pulling his legs up on the bed, his voice a little closer than before. “I can stay, if you’d like.”

“Yeah,” Han said quietly, small and too fragile for it feel like it had come from him.

He didn't see Luke's nod, but he put a hand on Han’s arm, rubbing his thumb over Han’s wrist, and he didn’t pull it back right away like before.

Han tried to pull the blankets tighter around himself, feeling clammy like he’d been sweating, but still so  _ cold; _ he almost preferred his hands shaking to the way he just couldn’t get a decent grip on the blankets, like all his joints and his muscles had somehow both stiffened up and gone completely to jelly at the same time.

“Here.” Luke reached over to pull the blankets around his shoulders, smoothing it down at the front so he was fully covered.

Han had to take a deep breath and tamp down the impulse to push his hand away, the helplessness of it making his skin crawl, but he knew it wasn't Luke's fault, that if there was something he could help, he would do it, even if Han didn’t want to  _ need _ it.

They were both quiet for a few minutes, silently shifting around to get more comfortable until they weren't quite leaning on each other, legs touching and shoulders bumping together every so often. Han couldn't tell what that thrumming feeling in his chest was coming from.

“Did smoking help yesterday?”

Han was startled for a second, thrown off by the candidness and the way he asked it like he was asking about another migraine medication or his heat pads.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, glancing over on impulse in the split second before remembering he couldn't see.

“That’s good.” Luke paused. “I can help if you need me to roll something.”

Han snorted. “You even know how?”

Luke's shoulders bounced with a laugh, nudging Han’s side. “You’ve been on Tatooine, you should know the answer to that.”

“Fair.” Han’s insides felt a little fluttery, and not in the sick way this time. “Maybe later.”

Luke's shoulder shifted again; Han was pretty sure it was a nod. “Just say the word.”

Han grumbled an  _ mhmm, _ stretching his legs out with a wince. He could practically feel them creaking.

“Are you alright?”

Han didn’t need to see him to know Luke had that concerned expression on his face, lips pressed in a tight line with that little crease between his eyebrows.

“Just stiff.”

“Would you be more comfortable lying down? I can move--”

Han shook his head. “S’fine.”

The silence over the next few seconds was thick and heavy like a stormcloud about to break, all the tension and the nervousness between them making the air buzz, Han’s helplessness and Luke's need to fix it and things left unsaid for much too long.

“What’s going on with you?” Han blurted out before he could stop himself, and he regretted it before he even felt Luke freeze up next to him.

“What do you mean?”

Han took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck; he shouldn’t have said anything, Luke would leave, he would get distant again, why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut…

“Barely been seeing you outside of missions,” he said slowly, fumbling for the words to put together what he had been doing his best to avoid thinking about. “And then I get sick again and here you are, and last time…” He trailed off with a groan muffled through grit teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose; maybe he should find those migraine pills again. “Gonna give me whiplash.”

Luke was so still next to him that Han wasn't even sure he was breathing, seconds dragging out like tar before he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.”

“Han…” Luke let out a frustrated sigh, hesitating like he had more to say, but nothing came.

“You're the one who said I have to  _ talk _ to you,” Han pointed out. “And then I can’t ever find you alone for five minutes. Base isn’t that big, Luke.”

“I know.” Luke's voice cracked, and Han hadn’t thought it was possible to regret saying anything even more than he already had. “I didn’t mean to be pushing you away, Han, it’s just.” Han could feel him fidgeting. “It feels wrong.”

_ “What?” _

“I don’t mean--” Luke cut himself off with what sounded unmistakably like a swear in some language Han didn’t know. “It feels like. Like I’m failing, I didn’t train hard enough, or I wouldn’t feel like this with you, and I’m going to fail and get someone hurt, or  _ you, _ and it'll be because I couldn’t do my job because I was selfish, and…” Luke trailed off like he’d run out of breath to keep going, sagging against Han’s side. “It’s not fair to you to make you into a target.”

Han wondered, just a little bitterly, in the back of his mind, how many times they were going to have this conversation.

“First thing,” Han started, trying to straighten his thoughts out into something coherent. The tail end of a flare really wasn’t the best time to be doing this again. “You don't get to decide what’s fair for me, so you can cut that right out. Pretty sure we've been over this. Next thing.” Han stopped for a second, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, still aching like there was too much pressure behind his eyes. “You're not being selfish. You're just being a person.”

“Yoda, and--”

“Fuck that guy. Been over that too. You really…” Han paused again, the beginnings of the migraine making it even harder to get his thoughts in order. “You really wanna talk  _ fair, _ how about how they tried to make you into their personal walking lightsaber ‘cause they couldn't be bothered to do a damn thing themselves, huh? And lied through their teeth the whole time? Sounds real fair on you.” 

“I know,” Luke said, his tone making Han’s chest ache. “I just. I have a responsibility…”

Han huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose, more out of frustration than pain this time. “Okay, fine, last Jedi, you got responsibilities. Doesn't mean they gotta be what a couple dead guys who did everything wrong picked out for you.”

Luke was silent then, still except for his shoulders lifting with each breath, and Han had started to scramble for the words to smooth it over when Luke said, “That’s what he told me, too.”

Han hesitated. “Who?”

He felt Luke take a deep breath, slow and shaky, and Han had to push down the impulse to touch his hand.

“I’ve only seen him twice,” Luke said quietly. “After the second Death Star, and last night.”

Han could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

“He told me about the same as you did,” Luke continued after another pause. “The Jedi were never really infallible. There's so much that I never knew…” He shivered, and Han was certain the temperature in the room wasn't low enough for him to be cold too. “Nothing feels right, now.”

Han wouldn't have known what to say at the best of times, let alone during a flare like this; he silently reached for Luke's hand, the need for some real contact finally winning out over the feeling that he was overstepping.

Luke's fingers slowly relaxed to fit comfortably between Han’s. “I  _ know, _ in my mind, they were wrong about going back to you and Leia, and...and my father, but.” Luke held Han’s hand a little tighter. “It doesn't feel any less like I’m leading myself to a mistake.”

Han squeezed Luke's hand, biting the inside of his cheek when Luke squeezed back. “They did really try to drill that no-attachment shit into you,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the mechanical joints in Luke’s. “Makes sense you’d be kinda conflicted about it now.”

Luke nodded, leaning a little more against Han, and he was quiet for a minute, fingers twitching anxiously in Han’s hand. “He told me not to make the same mistakes he did,” Luke said. “Their expectations were always going to be his downfall. I can’t…” Luke took a deep breath, shifting so it felt like he was facing more towards Han, but it was still too dark for him to see. “He lost my mother, and I--he said--I can't close myself off like this, just because I think it’s what they would tell me to do. What they  _ told _ me to do.”

Han’s throat felt tight.

Luke didn’t say anything for a minute, rubbing his fingertips over Han’s knuckles. “I don’t know who to listen to. I want. I  _ want _ to listen to him, but he’s not exactly…” Luke huffed a laugh, tired and a little bitter. “He’s not exactly the best example to follow.”

“You don’t have to listen to one or the other,” Han said, stilted and awkward and unsure if he was saying the right thing. “Not like either of them were great examples.”

Luke hummed noncommittally, but it wasn't disagreeing, and that was good enough for Han.

“Trusting your gut more than a couple old fogies got you this far,” he added. “And that’s a lot farther than if you  _ had _ only listened to them. You can make your own choices just fine.”

Han had the sneaking feeling that Luke was staring at him.

“Everyone else expects me to follow their lead, too,” Luke said, halfhearted like he was only going through the motions. “I can’t just--”

“Who the fuck cares what they think? The Jedi weren't perfect, you said it yourself. You don’t have to follow them just ‘cause some normal folks who don’t know shit about what really happened think you're supposed to.” Han could feel Luke's hand shaking, and he felt like he was rambling, but the words kept coming. “You're basically in charge now,  _ you _ decide what makes a good Jedi.”

Luke was silent at first; Han winced, scrambling for something to say that would fix whatever he’d said wrong, and he almost missed Luke's whispered, “Okay.”

The next few seconds felt like they were going too fast for Han to keep up.

“Okay,” Luke said again, almost like he was talking to himself, firmer and more confident; suddenly his natural hand was gripping Han’s shoulder, pulling himself against Han, and their teeth clacked but Luke's lips were so  _ soft… _

Han was too startled to respond right away, and he felt Luke freeze up before his brain caught up with his mouth. He turned to face him better so they weren't at such an awkward angle, looping his arm snug around Luke's waist, and his soft little  _ oh _ made Han melt.

“I’m sorry,” Luke murmured, barely breaking away enough for Han to hear him. “I should never have--”

“Forget it.” Han let the blankets slip off his shoulders, pulling Luke even closer until he was practically in his lap, propped up above his thighs so he wasn't leaning too much weight on Han; he was so close Han could feel Luke's heartbeat against his chest.

However fast it had felt at the beginning, Luke kissed him slow and soft like they had all the time in the world, winding his arms tight around Han’s shoulders. His natural hand came up to cup the back of Han’s neck, fingers twisting through his hair, and Han couldn't keep down the shiver it shot up his spine.

The warm weight of Luke in his lap was almost enough to make him forget he was sick, that he couldn't see, that there was any universe out there besides the two of them. It was enough to forget exactly where he was sitting, and he leaned back to pull Luke down with him until his head hit the wall with a dull  _ thwack. _

“Shit--”

“Oh--!”

Han had to put a hand out behind him to steady himself, but he didn’t let go of Luke's waist when he tried to move. “Every damn time,” Han grumbled to himself, leaning up to sneak a kiss to Luke's jaw.

He grimaced, the sore spot at the back of his head making his headache impossible to ignore any longer; Luke's fingertips trailing over his cheek made his face feel hot.

“Come on, Han, let go.” Luke wriggled out of his lap, standing up and pushing him gently down to the mattress. “Do you need the migraine pills?”

Han groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Yeah, probably.”

He heard the rattling of pills against plastic, and the bottle was in his hand just a couple seconds later.

“Let me get--”

Han shook his head and twisted the bottle open, swallowing one before Luke could say anything else.

“You shouldn't do that, you know,” Luke said, taking the bottle back and setting it down somewhere Han couldn't quite tell, but it sounded like he was smiling. “Dry-swallowing pills isn't good for your esophagus.”

Han rolled his eyes, reaching blindly for Luke's hand. “Yeah, whatever, doc, get over here.”

He heard some shuffling, and then the  _ clunk-clunk _ of Luke's shoes hitting the floor before the mattress dipped, and he had to scoot back against the wall for Luke to have any room. He was still stiff and aching deep in his joints, and it took some shifting around before he could get somewhere close to comfortable, his head on Luke's shoulder with his legs around one of Luke's so his knees weren't knocking together.

He could feel Luke's chin on the top of his head, natural hand rubbing up and down his side, and Han didn’t know how he'd managed to go all that time without this.

 

Han didn’t know when he'd fallen asleep again, or for how long--the black over his eyes had faded to a light gray, it must have been a couple hours--but he had somehow switched sides with Luke, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed. Luke was plastered against his back, arms tight around his waist; if he had to press his face into the pillow to suppress a grin when Luke shuffled impossibly closer, mumbling sleepily against his hair, no one had to know.

He tried to stretch out his legs as carefully as he could without jostling Luke, but there was a break in the evenness of his breath tickling the back of Han’s neck, and a soft kiss at the back of his head. He reached for Luke's natural hand, lacing their fingers together with a quick squeeze.

“Okay?” Luke whispered, shifting against Han’s back.

Han nodded and pulled Luke's hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Eyes are getting a little better.”

Luke hummed and nuzzled into Han’s hair, holding him a little tighter. “That's good to hear.”

They were both quiet for a few minutes, Han soaking in the warmth against his back from Luke, the cold finally leaving his bones enough to stop shivering every few minutes.

“Hey.”

Luke tilted his head up. “Mm?”

“Must be pretty good having that new hand,” he started, tracing along the fingers of Luke's prosthetic.

Luke leaned in to kiss the side of Han's neck. “Why’s that?”

“Can’t fall asleep when you got someone lying on it.”

Luke huffed a laugh that tickled behind Han’s ear. “It still does down to my wrist, though.”

Han twisted around to face him, bringing Luke's right hand up to his chest, rubbing his thumbs along Luke's wrist below where skin fused to synthetic. He could finally make out the outline of Luke's head.

Luke slung his other arm over Han’s waist, pulling him in close enough their hips bumped together. “Feeling better?”

Han nodded; he felt almost back to normal, his headache almost gone, and he wasn't shaking anymore, a little stiffness the only thing that was left from the wobbly feeling that his limbs weren't attached quite right. Han tilted his chin up to kiss him, missing by just a bit before Luke leaned in to kiss him properly. 

It started slow again, Luke trailing his fingertips up and down Han’s chest where he was still holding onto his wrist. It stayed lazy and sleepy until Han felt Luke's other hand shift to the small of his back, gently kneading circles over the base of his spine; Han couldn't help shivering when his fingertips dipped down to the waistband of his sweatpants, arching slightly forward before he could stop himself, but the pressure of Luke's hand on his back didn't change, and Han was certain that scrape of Luke's teeth over his bottom lip wasn't accidental.

“Kid…”

Luke pulled back barely enough to break the kiss. “Mm?”

“Where's this heading?”

Luke's hand on his back went still. “Where do you want it to?”

Han let out a slow breath and brought Luke's prosthetic up to his mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. “There's no rush.”

“I don’t think I'd call this rushing.”

“You only just--”

“Han,” Luke said, and the neediness in his voice made Han pause. “It's been so long.”

Han nodded slowly; if it felt this long for him, Luke had a whole other  _ year… _

“I didn't mean.” Luke cut himself off, moving his hand from Han’s back to his waist, over his shirt. “I’m sorry, you're sick, I shouldn't have--”

“Hey, no.” Han leaned in to kiss him again, and he didn't pull back until he felt Luke relax against him. “I’m fine.”

“You--”

“I’m  _ fine,” _ Han repeated with another quick kiss. “Just. We got time.” He was still loosely holding Luke's wrist against his chest, and he moved his other hand down to Luke's hip, his throat feeling a little tight at the familiar softness there. “You don't have to do anything right this second.”

Luke's hand slowly slipped down to his back again. “I want to,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper, and they were so close Han could feel his lips moving. “If you do.”

Han swore under his breath, pressing forward until there wasn't a part of them that wasn't touching; Luke held onto him like his life depended on it, kissing him slow but heavy and with a desperation that wasn't there before, and Han’s voice cracked on a moan he couldn't quite hold back when Luke's fingertips dipped below his waistband.

He could feel Luke smiling when he slipped his hand down to give his ass a quick squeeze, pushing their hips together and nudging one of his legs between Han’s.

“I missed you,” Luke whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Han nipped at his bottom lip. “Quit it.”

“What?”

Han rocked against him, grinning into the kiss at the little gasp it got out of Luke. “Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry,” Luke said, but he was smiling again too, and the feeling of it made Han’s chest warm.

Luke only stopped kissing him after a few minutes to scoot back against the wall, tugging the front of Han’s shirt to get him to move forward too. Han didn't even have time to kiss him again before Luke pushed him flat against the mattress with a hand on his chest, straddling his legs, and the way Luke kissed him then made his heart speed up.

Han reached down to squeeze at Luke's hips, gasping at the way Luke rocked against him, his fingertips tracing over the dip in Han’s collarbone.

He didn't stay there for long, his hand still pressing on Han’s chest while he shuffled backwards, only letting up to nudge Han’s legs apart and settle in between them.

Han’s breath caught in his throat.

He heard some fumbling, and a frustrated sigh, and a little more fumbling before Luke mumbled, “You need a bigger bed,” pushing up Han’s shirt to kiss along his belly.

Han’s laugh came out more like a gasp. “Yeah, remind me later.”

Luke tapped Han’s thigh to get him to lift his hips, tugging his sweatpants down a few inches. He felt almost out of place--he was usually the one between Luke's legs the last couple times, all those months ago--and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, gripping at the sheets.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep down a moan when he felt Luke's hand on his dick, the unnaturally smooth skin of his prosthetic not quite as warm as his natural hand.

It really had been too long.

“Okay?” Luke asked, his other hand coming up to loosen Han’s grip on the sheets, lacing their fingers together.

Han nodded.

Luke kissed along the line of fuzz going down his belly, jacking Han slow and steady until his hand wasn't as cool against Han’s skin, and he had to bite the knuckles of his free hand to keep quiet when he felt Luke's mouth on his dick.

If he had been taking his time before, he sure wasn't now, only mouthing at the tip for a second before ducking his head until Han was almost halfway in his mouth. He had to move his hand from Han’s dick to hold his hips down, slowly sucking back up until Han was squeezing his other hand like a vice.

“You’re trying to be quiet,” Luke teased, nudging Han’s dick with his cheek and kissing at the base of it. “No one else is here.”

Han swore under his breath, bringing down his free hand to tangle loosely in Luke's hair. It was softer than he remembered it being.

Luke hummed as he took Han back in his mouth, the vibrations of it making it hard to keep his hips still. Han’s breath hitched when he felt Luke try to suppress a cough, but he didn’t pull up again until he’d gotten Han most of the way down, his breath heavy and hot on Han’s skin.

Luke had always been intuitive when it came to this, even enough to shine through a little inexperience those earlier times; if Han hadn't been so distracted by just that, he might have wondered if using those Jedi mind-reading tricks during sex was a  _ thing, _ but the thought was gone as soon as it came when Luke took him back in his mouth, suddenly dipping down until his nose was almost touching Han’s belly.

_ “Fuck--” _

Luke could only hold it there for a few seconds, gasping when he pulled back up to replace his mouth with his hand. Han couldn't help wishing he could see Luke's face then, the way his cheeks got flushed and his lips got all pink and wet, and his  _ hair, _ Han would have to mess it up again when he could see; it was always so neat now, and there was something so satisfying about breaking through the perfect, stoic Jedi image, even more knowing he was the one to do it.

Luke was relentless, barely pulling all the way up to breathe. Han’s legs were starting to shake when Luke stopped to prop himself up on his elbows, fingers loose around Han’s dick.

“Try not to kick me, please,” he said, voice rough. Before Han could ask what he meant, Luke started to pull his sweatpants all the way down, the positioning a little awkward with Luke still between his legs. It took a few seconds of fumbling before Luke tossed them off the bed, settling in again and propping Han’s legs on his shoulders. Han couldn't keep down a startled  _ oh _ when Luke yanked him down a couple inches, mouthing at the base of his dick without any warning.

Luke looped his arms around Han’s thighs, fingertips trailing up and down the soft, sensitive skin just below where his leg met his torso, his other hand jacking Han a little faster than before, his grip a little tighter. Han bit back a curse when Luke started mouthing at his balls, his head dropping back against the mattress, and it took the last shreds of willpower he had left not to pull too hard on Luke's hair.

Han could feel him smiling--the thought made his breathing go shaky--before his mouth was back on Han’s dick, his fingers snug around the last couple inches he couldn't quite get.

Luke bobbed his head just inconsistently enough to keep Han gasping, twisting his hand just so, sucking harder on the head whenever he started getting almost used to it. It wasn't long before that hot, tingly feeling started to spread through his insides, and he tugged a little harder on Luke's hair, moaning as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Luke--babe--”

He hummed and bobbed his head even lower until his lips met his fingers, and he moved his hand down to cup at Han’s balls with just a hint of pressure that made his knees weak.

Han came with his voice cracking on swear, but Luke stayed put, only moving his hand up to hold Han’s hips still. He didn't pull up until Han was practically begging, carefully lowering Han’s legs from his shoulders and crawling back up the bed.

Han reached for the front of his shirt as soon as he could see Luke's silhouette above him, yanking him down a little too enthusiastically, knocking the wind out of both of them for a second. It felt like Luke was laughing when he kissed him, his lips damp and soft and just a little salty.

Han wound his arms around Luke's waist, holding him close so Luke's body was almost fully covering his, warm and a comforting sort of heavy.

They kissed slow and lazy, none of the rush or the desperation from before, but Han didn’t miss the way Luke's hips twitched against him when he trailed his fingers over Luke's lower back, and Han could tell he was trying to muffle the little sounds bubbling from his throat.

Han scraped his teeth over Luke's bottom lip. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Luke murmured back, a gravelly edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

Han didn't stop kissing him to nudge Luke into the cramped space between him and the wall, scooting back to give him a couple more inches, but they might as well have been glued together. Han barely had room to wriggle one hand between them, fiddling with where Luke's shirt was tucked into his pants. Han’s hands were finally steady enough to pop his fly open when Luke gave a quick nod, slipping straight past his underwear to start making slow circles around his clit.

Luke's hips jerked, gasping into the kiss like he'd been shocked. Han’s fingers were already feeling damp, and he twisted his wrist to keep his thumb on Luke's clit while he slipped two fingers into him, just to the first knuckle. It was still enough to get a startled moan out of him, rocking shakily against Han’s hand.

Luke might have gotten right to it, but Han was making up for lost time, and he kept it almost teasingly slow. Luke broke the kiss with a moan when Han slid his fingers all the way in, pressing his face into the pillow, and Han almost pulled his hand away before Luke grabbed at his wrist.

“Keep going,” Luke whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, and the way Luke held his hand in place to keep rocking against Han’s fingers made him shiver.

Han nipped at Luke's bottom lip at the same he pressed his fingers back in, grinning at the way Luke gasped, squeezing Han’s wrist just this side of too tight.

“So…” Han said, muffled against Luke's mouth. He didn't think he could stop kissing Luke if it would kill him. “What's better, this--” Han put a little more pressure on Luke's clit, grinning at the whine it got out of him, “or that new hand of yours?”

“I wouldn't,  _ oh, _ wouldn’t really. Be able to say,” Luke stammered, his voice cracking at the end.

“What, seriously--”

Luke nodded, bumping his forehead against Han’s to catch his breath for a second.

Han pumped his fingers in short, jerky movements until Luke was practically whimpering. “This whole time?”

“We’re not--not supposed to be distracted by unnecessary physical wants, it’s--” Luke cut himself off with a gasp, and Han could feel him tensing up, easing up on his clit to drag it out longer.

Han hummed and tilted his chin up to kiss him, teasing Luke's bottom lip between his teeth when it felt like he was too far gone to kiss him back properly. 

“Sounds like kind of a drag,” he mumbled, curling his fingers.

Luke laughed breathlessly and nodded again, pressing a damp kiss to the scar on Han’s chin.

Han’s face felt warm.

He scissored his fingers for a minute before slowly adding a third, and Luke arched against him, hooking his leg around one of Han’s like the closest they could possibly be still wasn't close enough. 

Han’s arm was jammed between their hips, and his wrist was starting to get stiff, but he could feel Luke going tense, and that telltale feeling in the pit of his belly like he was starting to get hard again. He circled his thumb faster over Luke's clit, twisting his fingers that way that had always made Luke's legs shake.

“Han--” Luke gasped, kissing him messy and uncoordinated before bumping his head against Han’s forehead again.

“Yeah, I got you,” Han murmured, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Han hadn't realized just how much he'd missed the way Luke shook like a leaf when he came, biting the inside of his cheek to try to keep quiet. 

Some things really didn’t change.

Han kept his thumb on Luke's clit until his hips went mostly still, slowly pumping his fingers until Luke was squirming against his hand.

Luke pressed forward to kiss him before he even got the chance to wipe his hand on the sheets, still wet and sticky when he started tugging Luke's shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. Han only got it up to Luke's waist before he wriggled his way out of it and tossed it somewhere off the bed, but Luke hesitated with his hands halfway up Han’s shirt.

“Will you be too cold?”

Han shook his head and kissed him again.

Luke helped him out of his shirt and tossed it away with his own, pulling Han tight against him and hooking his leg around Han’s. He couldn't bring himself to care about the scratchy feeling of Luke's pants against his skin, not with the way Luke was kissing him, grinding just slightly against Han’s thigh.

Han moved his hand to Luke's waist, squeezing at the soft part of his hip before moving upwards. He stopped at the feeling of scar tissue under his thumb towards the side of Luke's chest, about halfway up his ribcage; he didn’t think much of it at first--they'd both gotten their share of new scars over the last couple years, anyway--but Luke's breath hitched, sucking lightly on Han’s bottom lip.

Han tentatively trailed his fingers closer to the middle of Luke's chest, where there was a gap in the line of too-smooth skin at the bottom of his sternum, and he could feel another identical line starting on the other side too.

It felt like Luke was practically buzzing.

“This is new,” Han whispered, pressing his palm flat on Luke's chest.

He could feel Luke smiling when he kissed him.

“Yeah,” Luke whispered back, and then he was full-out grinning, teeth clacking against Han’s before he ducked his face into the pillow. “That feels nice.”

Han peppered kisses over Luke's face before Luke leaned in to kiss him back, tracing tiny circles back and forth along the scars, rubbing his thumb up and down in the space between them.

Luke kept making soft, needy little sounds, bringing his hand up to the back of Han’s neck, just holding him in place to keep kissing him. Han still couldn't see the scars to guess how old they were, but if Luke's skin was this sensitive, it must have been a while. He tweaked his thumb over Luke's nipple, mostly out of curiosity, and Luke shivered against him with a whine, tugging at his hair.

Luke shifted to get his other hand free, and Han gasped out a swear at the feeling of Luke's fingers loosely circling his dick, half-hard and a little over sensitive from before; he still wasn't used to the feeling of Luke's synthetic skin against his own.

Luke scooted back until he bumped the wall, and Han didn’t need to be told to follow. Luke didn't give him any warning before flipping them in one smooth motion so Han was flat on his back again, Luke straddling his thighs, and Han’s heart raced from the feeling of Luke's hands pinning his wrists by his head with just enough pressure to mean it.

“Hell, kid--”

Luke leaned down to kiss him before he could say anything else, rocking against Han for a second before pulling back, his mouth just out of reach.

“Hold on.” Luke kissed the tip of his nose before letting go of his wrists, almost toppling off of him. “Sorry. Just...” Han could make out the silhouette of Luke stripping out of his pants before he climbed right back in his lap, sliding his hands slowly up Han’s arms and meshing their fingers together.

It was more comfortable without the rough fabric of Luke's pants over his skin, but there was nothing between them to keep his dick from brushing against the damp warmth between Luke's legs. Han couldn't keep his hips quite still, biting back a moan.

Luke wriggled in his lap until Han’s dick was caught snug between Luke and his belly, smiling into the kiss when it made Han gasp. He rolled his hips with just the right sort of pressure, slow and deliberate. It didn’t take long before Han was hard again, prying his hands free from where Luke still had them pinned to the bed, reaching down to his hips. Luke groaned low in his chest when Han ground up against him, his clit slipping over the head of Han's dick.

Luke only broke the kiss to sit up straight, and Han’s breath caught in his throat, shifting his hands a little lower to squeeze at his ass. Luke propped himself up on his knees, one hand on Han’s chest to keep himself steady while the other came down to line himself up with Han.

It took a few tries--Luke's hand felt a little shaky--but then he was sinking into Han’s lap, slowly lifting his hips a couple times before settling all the way down.

Han grit his teeth and tried not to move too much too fast, but Luke had other plans, settling into a rhythm before Han could even get used to the wet, hot pressure on his dick. He dropped his head back to the pillow with a flurry of swears, and suddenly Luke's mouth was on his collarbone, kissing up to his jaw before kissing him without any of the finesse from before.

It took a minute before Han could do anything but kiss him back, his hips jerking up against Luke. He moved one of his hands from Luke's ass to thumb at his clit, and Luke bit his lip a little too hard to be on purpose, gasping and pressing his face into the crook of Han’s neck.

_ “Fuck.” _

Han grinned and kissed the top of his head, planting his feet flat on the bed so he had enough leverage to thrust up into Luke.

Luke clenched his knees tight around Han’s waist, pressing damp kisses along his neck between breathy little moans. Han shifted his hand so he had three fingers covering Luke's clit, wrist facing up so he could grind forward against Han’s hand, and Luke bit down on the curve of his shoulder hard enough it would have to leave a mark.

Luke grabbed on tight to Han’s wrist to hold his hand in place--not that he could ever bring himself to move it, anyway, not with those noises Luke was making--and he tried to roll his hips down in time to meet Han’s, but he was getting shaky and uncoordinated, twitching against Han’s hand.

Han gave his ass a quick squeeze before bringing his free hand up to Luke's hair, tugging lightly so he would lean up to kiss him. It had been easy to ignore how tired he still was until his back started to ache, and he tried to stifle a wince and push through it, but Luke went still in his lap before straightening up and batting Han’s hand away from his clit.

“You're supposed to be resting,” he said breathlessly, slowly settling back into a rhythm with no room for Han to take over. “Stop trying to do all the work.”

Han huffed a laugh moved his hands back to Luke's hips. “Says who?”

“Medical,” Luke pointed out sarcastically, and Han heard a muffled whine when Luke started rubbing at his clit again, his fingertips bumping Han’s dick every downstroke. “Don't,  _ mm, _ don’t overdo it, get me in trouble for coming here, just because you're a bad patient.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Han mumbled, biting his lip, and he couldn't help rocking up with Luke just a little. He could almost make out Luke's facial features if he didn’t look directly at him. “I’ll tell ‘em you had nothing to do with it.”

Luke laughed, and Han’s chest felt warm.

He didn't let up one bit, his free hand on Han’s shoulder to steady himself while he bounced in Han's lap until his breathing was heavy, and Han could feel his knees starting to shake where they were still squeezing tight at his sides.

“Oh--Han--”

Han took a deep breath and grit his teeth, replacing Luke's hand with his own to rub his thumb over his clit. Luke yelped and lurched forward, almost collapsing onto Han before he caught himself with the hand still gripping Han’s shoulder.

Luke moaned, grinding gracelessly against his hand and shaking like he might fall apart right there, swearing like it had come as a surprise.

Han didn't pull his hand away until Luke was twitching.

Luke was curled over him like he hadn't had it in him to stay upright, his breath coming out in hot puffs against Han’s skin for a minute before he shivered and pushed himself up to lean back against Han’s knees.

Luke stayed there for a minute to catch his breath, shifting his hips forward and back just enough that Han had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from rocking up into him.

Han could see his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he leaned down, kissing him soft and slow, and Han could still feel him shaking a little under his hands.

“I really missed this,” Luke whispered, still so close Han could feel his lips moving. “I missed you.”

“Don't have to now,” Han murmured back, clasping his hands around Luke's back, and he couldn't help pushing his hips up when Luke shifted in his lap.

“Hey.” Luke nipped at his lip and sat up straight again, his hand firm on Han’s chest. “What did I just say?”

“I don’t know…” Han slid his hands back around to Luke's hips and thrust up again. “Remind me.”

Luke laughed and shook his head, slowly inching up from his lap and sinking back down a couple times. “You're incorrigible.”

“Yeah, well, you gonna do something--?”

Han groaned when Luke sped up suddenly, bracing both hands on Han’s shoulders. His knees were tight around Han’s sides, boxing him in, almost too snug to really move his hips even if he tried; Luke was barely lifting up anymore, just grinding down on him with an occasional shaky bounce.

Han couldn't catch his breath, gripping Luke's hips like a lifeline. There was a tightness creeping into the pit of his stomach again, and he couldn't help jerking up against Luke, still pinning him flat on the bed.

“Kid--oh, hell.” Han gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m--”

Luke kissed him before he could finish, rough and messy before Han’s head dropped back against the pillow with a groan. Luke kissed down his neck, sucking lightly over his clavicle and then back up to the curve of his shoulder; he bit down and rolled his hips  _ just so _ at the same moment Han started to come, and Luke didn’t let up until Han was shaking under him, gently worrying his skin between his teeth.

Luke kissed the tender spot on Han’s neck and pushed himself up with shaky elbows, but Han pulled him back down to kiss him properly before he could get very far.

He could feel Luke smiling, but he pulled away a few seconds later with a wince, shifting awkwardly in Han’s lap. “I should…”

Han dropped his hands from Luke's hips so he could get up, gingerly lifting himself from Han’s lap. Han scooted as close to the wall as he could, pulling Luke back down to the bed and shuffling around until Luke was lying flat on his back, Han tucked against his side, kissing along the side of his neck.

He'd almost forgotten that particularly sensitive spot under his ear until Luke squirmed, his breath coming out in frantic gasps.

“Ha-Han, stop, come on.” Luke swatted lightly at his head, tangling his fingers in Han’s hair when he moved up to kiss Luke's jaw.

“All that Jedi training, can’t even get you to stop being ticklish,” Han mumbled, nuzzling his face in the crook of Luke's neck. “Sounds like a scam to me.”

Luke laughed, hard enough to jostle him a little, and Han couldn’t hold back a smile, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Han shuffled closer, leaning his head on Luke's chest, the steady  _ thump-thump _ of his heartbeat making Han’s eyelids feel heavy.

“Hey,” he grumbled, kissing Luke's collarbone. “You've been in here a while now, huh?”

Luke shrugged and kissed the top of his head. “There isn't anywhere else I need to be.”

Han hummed, fingertips tracing up and down Luke's ribs. He'd forgotten the lights were still on, a dull yellow fading out all the gray; he could finally see where the wall hit the floor, rather than one big blotch.

“You can get the lights,” he said. “If you want to.”

He felt Luke's breathing break rhythm for a second. “Your eyesight’s back?”

“Gettin’ there.” Han kissed the side of his neck. “Unless you were planning on leaving anytime soon.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Luke kissed the top of his head again. “Let me up?”

Han shifted his weight so he wasn't leaning quite so much on Luke, and it was only a few seconds before the dull yellow disappeared into black; the tightness in his chest from not being able to see again melted away almost as soon as Luke got back into bed, pulling up a couple blankets from where they'd gotten kicked to the bottom.

Han was on him like an octopus as soon as Luke was lying down again, holding him tight with his face pressed in the crook of Luke's neck. Luke carded his fingers through Han’s hair, fingertips massaging slow circles over his scalp where the dull ache in his head was finally almost gone.

He still smelled the same, Han realized, nothing he could really place, just warm and familiar and a little bit like sex and sweat.

Han kissed the side of his neck, bumping his nose against Luke's jaw. “I love you.”

Luke's chest lifted with a deep breath, scritching at the back of his head. “I love you.”


End file.
